My country’s cut in two,

By stout men of ruddy visage we never knew.

A new home awaits,

But beastly fiends prowl the road,

We must escape them; we must make haste.


The August sun is a fireball,

We trod the uncharted path, without food, without water,

Drained to the last sweat, about to fall.

Still, we persist, for if we trail behind, the beasts may devour us,

We disregard the calluses on our feet, filled with blood and pus.


The Dayday fades into Nightnight,

We walk, we walk and we walk,

But there’s no end in sight.

A perpetual ordeal it seems,

The ghoulish face of death screams.


History took a new course,

The day we let the so-called civilised rule us by force.

Now they’ve divided us: pitted one brother against another,

We forget we were born from the womb of the same mother.


A horrendous journey finally draws to a close,

We reach our destination: a garden full of thorns, but no rose.

The jubilant proudly celebrate their victory,

These new homes are built on graves, some will forever remain a mystery…